


Petrichor

by SophiaCatherine, Thette



Series: My Coldflash Bingo [6]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Flirting, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Leonard Snart Lives, M/M, Magical Accidents, Reluctant Hero Leonard Snart, Scents & Smells, Star Wars References, leonard snart on team flash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 16:19:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18781792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophiaCatherine/pseuds/SophiaCatherine, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thette/pseuds/Thette
Summary: Len gets whammied by a witch during a team up with the Flash. (Of course, she's one of Constantine's old pals, that British bastard.) The only thing that changed is that his sense of smell got so much better....and Barry smells absolutely delicious!





	Petrichor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PepperCat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PepperCat/gifts).



> The title was a suggestion from Peppercat. We wrote this fic together, Sophia and Thette, switching between active writers after nearly every sentence. It was a lot of fun, and I (Thette) would love to do that again.
> 
> Written for SophiaCatherine's DC TV Bingo, for the square Magical Mishaps, and for Thette's Coldflash Bingo, for the square Magical Accidents.

"I see you're back to begging for my help again, Barry.” 

The fact that this conversation was happening over the phone was irrelevant; Len still rolled his eyes. He needed a big heist under his belt, something that would get the resident speedster to understand he was not their personal antihero on call. Now that he’d been with the Legends for a while, he was  _ technically _ on the same side as Team Flash, but that didn’t mean he wanted them to expect his help on a weekly basis. "What could you possibly offer as incentive this time?”

“Uh,” said Barry, as though he hadn’t thought that Len might want to be recompensed for his time. Len resisted the urge to remind him that he wasn’t just a walking cold gun. "I can owe you one?"

That time, Len did give in to the urge to laugh out loud. “Oh, Barry. You don't even know what you're signing up for. I'm not the right person to get a carte blanche."

Barry coughed on the other end of the line. “At least let me tell you what we’re dealing with.” Len let his silence speak for him. "There's this witch, who's got a spell that can take out metahumans, like me. Like Cisco.”

“Hmm,” Len drawled. It was an interesting concept, at least. And he didn’t  _ really _ want the Flash getting hurt. That could be a complication. “And you want the help of a non-metahuman, I take it?”

"We don't know if she can disable tech, but so far, we haven't seen her do it."

Len drummed his fingers against his kitchen counter. He was still skeptical, but he was one of the few non-metas at hand, unless Barry wanted to throw Iris into battle. “Got any intel on her?” 

“Not much,” said Barry’s tinny voice down his burner phone line. “She used to work for Constantine, turned to the dark side a couple of years ago. Something about a demon offering her power, I think?”

Figures. Of course the British dick was involved; it was magic. He'd never tell Barry, but that made it personal. He sighed performatively. “Well… if I’m really your last hope…”

He bit down on a flare of frustration as he realised he wasn’t actually opposed to helping. He didn’t know what it was about Team Flash, but something about the meddling do-gooders had him coming back to help out, again and again.

"Please, Snart," Barry pleaded, sounding genuinely distressed. "We're desperate." His voice changed, barely concealed amusement rising to the surface. "Help us, Obi-Len Kenobi, you're our only hope." 

“That was one too many Star Wars references for this conversation,” Len deadpanned. He could feel his lips twisting into an amused half-grin, suddenly glad Barry couldn’t see his face. With great effort, he put on an air of exasperation. "Fine. Give me the details. Where and when?”

— — —

Barry had sulked and whined about being told to stand back and watch, but Len had, correctly, pointed out that he was vulnerable to the witch's magic, and Len was not. He’d managed to persuade Barry to wait out of sight, with Len aiming to draw her fire until Barry could speed in when she was distracted. 

"Try not to kill her, okay?" Barry had suggested with a sigh, as he handed Len a protective amulet (custom made by the dick, of course). 

“Why, Barry. Wouldn’t dream of it. How could you think such a thing of me?” He gave him an attempt at his most sarcastic smile, and turned to wait for the witch to arrive in the abandoned parking garage.

They didn't have to wait long. Mere minutes after they took their places, a young, blonde girl, wearing a flowy blouse and a long skirt, made her entrance. Len resisted a comment about whether there had been a sale on at Pagans R Us. “Eliara, I presume?”

"And who are you? I came for the Flash."

He drew the cold gun in two swift moves. “Sends his regards.” He felt a familiar thrill as the cold, white fire surrounded her, but he was a good boy and didn't aim for any vital parts.

He felt a stab of irritation when the witch just  _ laughed.  _ She was clearly going for an evil cackle, but it didn’t quite land. Sweeping a hand across her left leg, she turned the ice to water with apparent ease. "Better luck next time, Captain Cold. Didn't know you ran errands for the Flash."

He pretended the comment didn’t rankle. He was a free man, doing whatever he felt like, whenever he felt like it, and not a personal assistant.  _ Execute the plan. _ He raised the gun again, shooting repeatedly, faster than she could speak her pseudo-Latin counter spells. She had stopped laughing, and was throwing green lightning at the supporting beams above his head. He dodged falling debris, swearing under his breath. 

As he shot again, he saw her lift a clenched fist, holding something in her hand. A blue glow enveloped her, lifting her from the ground, and she pointed at him. A wave of nausea hit, and then the world rushed past for a second, and he fell down onto the grass in the park by the river. “Thanks,” he muttered at Barry, refusing to acknowledge the bitter taste of embarrassment and failure.

"Throw away the plan, right?" Barry said, in between panting breaths. "Did she get you?"

He shrugged. “With something. A powder, or...” He frowned at Barry, who was leaning over him, looking for injury. "I'm  _ fine,"  _ he said, with more certainty than he was feeling. All limbs attached, no obvious broken bones, no brainwashing voices in his head.

He sat up, and the movement brought a whiff of air from the ground. The grass smelled intensely  _ green  _ and the earth smelled musty and  _ warm, _ and it stopped him in his tracks. This was not how things usually smelled. 

Bringing his hands up under him, he started rising to his feet, and Barry was suddenly uncomfortably close. He smelled, too. Nothing unpleasant; quite the opposite, in fact. It wasn't a cologne or an after-shave; those, Len could recognize and avoid. It was just a fresh, rainy, kinda spicy aroma, and Len wanted to bury his nose in Barry's neck to get more of it.

Barry was peering at him. “Are you sure you’re okay, Len?”

Len looked away, unable to bear any further eye contact. "Maybe let Dr Snow check me out," he said, ashamed at admitting to any possible weakness.

He stepped away, trying to put Barry behind him. But Barry’s scent reached him even from a distance, too distracting, too delicious to ignore.

— — —

The flashlight shone into his eyes, and he nearly pushed her hand away. "I'm gonna need a blood sample and a urine sample," Dr Snow said, her voice cold and professional. 

He raised an eyebrow at her as she passed him a cup. “Don’t beat around the bush, do you, doc?” 

Returning with it a moment later, he asked, “Any idea what this could be?”

"Your only symptom so far has been an enhanced sense of smell, right?" 

He nodded, wincing a bit at the memory of her array of scent testing substances, the ammonia in particular. “Really intense,” he admitted. This was not comfortable. As much as he knew, intellectually, that Team Flash were not going to use his weaknesses against him, it wasn’t exactly easy to share them with former enemies. So far, Dr Snow didn't seem to hold her kidnapping against him, but you never knew. Vengeance could come later. 

She was peering into her microscope. “Tests aren’t showing anything unusual so far,” she said, voice a little distant. "Your red blood cells are a tad on the large side; you could probably use some more green vegetables in your diet. But a mild macrocythemia is probably not related to the current issue."

Pretending he knew what that was, he nodded. “So it’s a magic thing, then?”

She looked straight at him, displeasure showing in her tightly pursed lips. "Must be."

No concerned eyes tickled at the back of his neck, and that wonderful smell was gone. Barry must have left, but Len still kept his voice down, knowing how well sound carried at STAR Labs. "I didn't ask for this, and the worst part is that Barry smells so good."

Dr Snow gave him a fleeting smile. "Like petrichor, right?" He raised an eyebrow in question, and she continued. "I think it's a Speed Force thing, but yeah, Barry smells like the earth after rain."

He tilted his head at her. “You mean everyone else smells it?”

“Probably not everyone. I’ve always had a fairly sensitive sense of smell,” she answered with a shrug.

This was entirely new to him. Until now, smell had been his weakest sense. He’d been able to tell if food had gone off, a constant risk when living with Mick Rory, who kept groceries around for weeks in case of the sudden urge for a midnight snack. He could tell when something was burning, or when someone had worn the same socks for a week straight, also important abilities when living with Mick. Now he glanced around the room, identifying the sources of a dozen different odors. The rubbing alcohol was obvious and unpleasant, but he could sense the liquorice lollipops Ramon was eating in the next room, and the faintly flowery smell of Dr Snow's deodorant. Somewhere else in the labs, someone was making a cheese sandwich. He closed his eyes against the overwhelming flood of sensory input. “We need to fix this,” he muttered.

— — —

"Find the witch, she said," Len said to himself under his breath. "It'll be easy, she said. She did this, she can probably undo it." With an increasing sense of hopelessness, he trudged through the empty warehouse that Team Flash had traced as the witch’s last known address. 

“I don’t think there’s anyone here,” Barry called from another room. He sounded like he was several feet away, but Len could scent him from here, Barry’s warm, musty smell filling his nostrils. It was an odd kind of comfort, and he was torn between pulling him closer to get  _ more  _ of it, and running away, as far as he could. 

Sure, he’d always been attracted to Barry. He figured the speedster knew that, maybe even shared that attraction, given all the flirting they got away with in the field. They had both exploited the other’s interest, their captivation with each other, whether they were fighting against each other or, more recently, on the same team. But this lure of Barry’s smell was new, visceral in a way he hadn't experienced before, and it unnerved him. He wanted to be in control, not a slave to his unruly nose. Len shook his head, trying to chase the scent away and focus on their mission.

Barry wandered back in through a squeaky door—that smelled of mold and rot—and shrugged at Len. "I don't know if she's even in Central City anymore. There haven't been any reports on magical activity since yesterday."

Len winced as Barry stepped closer. “Could you, uh…” He waved him away.

Barry, who was never that great at subtlety, shook his head in confusion. “What?”

Raising his eyes to the bare roof slats above him, Len sighed. “Could you move a little further away,  _ please?  _ Your scent is rather… distracting.”

Barry grinned, looking insufferably smug. He preened, moving even closer. "You like how I smell, Len?"

“I didn’t say that,” he replied through clenched teeth. They both knew it was a lie.

Barry raised an eyebrow. "It was implied."

Len clenched his hands, driving his nails into the flesh of his palm. This infuriating… 

Barry had taken a step closer. “Tell me, Len,” he asked, his grin sliding dangerously close to shit-eating territory, “do you just like how I smell, or do you like… me?”

Len inhaled deeply. It was a bad decision. He was overwhelmed, the scent nearly enough to taste. "You smell like a fucking garden. Like the rain," he said, pressing the words out almost involuntarily. "And I can't focus, because it's so good, and I want to  _ eat _ you, so can you please,  _ please,  _ just move the fuck away?"

Wide-eyed, his grin softening into an awed smile, Barry stepped away. “Okay. Sorry.”

Breathing a little easier, Len focused. “What’s next?” He glared preemptively at Barry. “And if you tell me to call John fucking Constantine, I will walk away and take my enhanced sense of smell with me.”

A crashing noise from behind them made them both turn around. "What?!" Eliara shouted as she stood up from behind the loading crates. "Don't tell me you got away with just an 'enhanced sense of smell'! My spell was going to incapacitate you with sensory overload!" She was pouting exaggeratedly, like a child, her lower lip nearly reaching her chin.

“Think you might have overreached with that one,” Len drawled, whipping out his cold gun and firing off a series of targeted shots. He was, after all, known throughout the timeline for his aim. “Old West,” he said to Barry, who already had Eliara in a set of anti-meta cuffs adapted for magic users. “Got in some good sharp-shooter practice.”

Barry's eyes gleamed in fascination. "You've got to tell me about that sometime." He turned to Eliara. "Undo the spell, and we'll see if we can help you get free from the demon," he said, his voice firm and commanding. That tone, with Barry in full Flash mode, never failed to get Len interested, no matter how much he tried to deny it.

“Fine,” the witch said, her pout extending even further. She held out her hands. Barry unlocked the cuffs, with Len’s gun trained on Eliara throughout, as she muttered a spell and repeated her trick with the powder and the blue light. 

The warehouse hadn't exactly been well ventilated. The first thing Len noticed was that he stopped sensing the mold and dampness, and could breathe more easily. The second thing he noticed was that he no longer could smell Barry. It was a bittersweet victory, and he missed the scent already.

Something of that must have shown on his face, because Barry walked up to him, with Eliara still in a tight grip, and leaned his head on Len's shoulder. Breathing in deep, a little of it came back to him—that heady, clean smell, full of the promise of fresh starts and new possibilities. 

"I never needed magic to be attracted to you," Barry whispered.

“Likewise, as I guess you’ve figured by now,” Len murmured back.

“Oh my  _ God,”  _ groaned Eliara. “Could you two get a room? This is worse than being in thrall to a demon.”

— — —

"Oh my  _ God," _ Barry said, rolling over to lie on his back, "we need to do that again."

"I'm an old man, Scarlet," Len panted. "You need to give me a break." He turned his head to smirk at Barry, though it felt like more of a smile in the end. “Not that I disagree with your conclusion.”

Barry smiled back at him, that gorgeous sunshine smile of his, and cuddled up closer, his fingers drawing lazy patterns on Len's chest. Len bowed his head, burying his nose in Barry's unruly hair.

"You still smell absolutely delicious," he said, inhaling deeply.

"Of course I do, I'm a legit snack," Barry said, with a small giggle, that shouldn't have been as adorable as it was. 

Len pulled away to laugh, taking Barry in. His damp, glowing face, his sparkling eyes. All in all, while Len wouldn’t have chosen to get whammied with magic, he couldn’t argue with the results. This was… pretty good.

Len had never been one for self-deception. Sure, he was a consummate liar to everyone else - but it always paid to be honest with himself. He could protest to Barry all he wanted about not wanting to be at his beck and call, but there was a reason he kept working with him. And maybe it was time to admit it.

If teaming up with the good guys got him Barry, it was almost worth collaborating with Team Flash. 

_ Almost. _

Leaning in to kiss Barry, Len smiled against his lips. He tasted like a storm after lightning. Like the earth after rain.

**Author's Note:**

> "Legit snack" is shamelessly stolen from The Good Place, and there are so many Star Wars references in that first conversation, we kinda lost count.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated!
> 
> Come join us on Tumblr! [Thette is bold-sartorial-statement](https://bold-sartorial-statement.tumblr.com) and [SophiaCatherine is sophiainspace](https://sophiainspace.tumblr.com/).


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